


A Good Will Draught

by Glisseo



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: McGonagall can dance the highland fling like nobody's business
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:28:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22041082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glisseo/pseuds/Glisseo
Summary: “So, are you looking forward to the new year?”His heart leapt at the slightest indication that she wanted to spend time alone with him. “Yeah, definitely,” he said. “High hopes for this one.”New Year's Eve, 1996.
Relationships: Pre-Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley
Comments: 12
Kudos: 110





	A Good Will Draught

**Author's Note:**

> I started this ages ago and decided to wrap it up quickly in time for NYE, so it's not very polished!

“In France,” said Fleur, “we ‘ave a very fine meal, with  _ les huitres  _ and champagne, and often there is a party at which we dress in costumes - so very entertaining!”    
  
Her tone suggested that she didn’t think the same could be said of the celebrations at the Burrow. The Christmas decorations were still up and Ginny had added to her swathes of paper chains, but Harry had to admit that New Year in France sounded a bit more extravagant. He had never been to a New Year’s Eve party - sitting around in front of the fire, as they’d done most evenings this holiday, was fine by him, but clearly Fleur had higher expectations.    
  
“Champagne? Oh, we’ve got champagne,” said Fred, brightly.    
  
“Made it ourselves,” said George.    
  
“Or is it sparkling wine?”   
  
“Either way, it makes a terrific bang when you open it.”   
  
“And when you drink it, but that’s just part of the fun.”   
  
Fleur wrinkled her nose, clearly not yet used to the twins enough that she could tell whether they were serious. “I think I will ‘ave red wine.”   
  
“Suit yourself.”   
  
“More for us, then.”   
  
“I’ll have some,” said Harry, feeling suddenly reckless, and keen to assuage the thoughts swirling around his mind: Malfoy and his plans … the Half-Blood Prince, whoever they were … he was aware, too, that his gaze kept wandering to Ginny, who was draped lengthways across an armchair close to the fire staring absently into the flames.  _ She’s got a boyfriend _ , he reminded himself.  _ Stop staring! _ _   
  
_

Ron, who also looked as if he could do with taking his mind off things - female things, to be precise, Harry thought - quickly said that he would have some, too.  _   
_ _   
_ “Excellent!” cried Fred, conjuring several champagne flutes from thin air. “That’s the party spirit. Anyone else? Bill?”   
  
“Not if you paid me,” said Bill, warily eyeing the bottle that George had produced.    
  
“Spoilsport. Mother, dearest?”   
  
Mrs. Weasley had been quietly snuffling into a handkerchief in the corner: she had found a pair of Percy’s socks when doing laundry earlier and dissolved into tears again, as she had been doing ever since the eventful Christmas dinner. None of them were sure how she knew they were Percy’s socks, but there seemed little point in asking.    
  
She looked up, appearing to register the topic of conversation for the first time.    
  
“What’s that …? Champagne? Oh no, dears, not for me, thank you.”   
  
“Right,” said George, “so it’s just us, Ron, Harry -”   
  
“Me,” came Ginny’s voice: Harry glanced at her and felt a jolt in his stomach as he realised she was looking directly at him.    
  
Unfortunately, Mrs. Weasley was paying attention now.    
  
“Definitely not. You’re fifteen!”   
  
“That’s only a year younger than Harry and Ron, how come they -?”   
  
“I didn’t say they could! No alcohol until you’re of age - and you shouldn’t be offering it to them, Fred, George!”   
  
“We didn’t,” Fred pointed out.   
  
“They asked -”   
  
“- and you’re allowed to drink underage anyway, you just can’t buy it yourself -”   
  
“- although they don’t really mind in the Hog’s Head … not that we ever tried,” George added hastily, catching his mother’s eye. “Come on, Mum - it’s New Year’s Eve.”   
  
“One glass won’t do any harm, Molly,” said Mr. Weasley. “It isn’t like they’re going anywhere - there are plenty of responsible adults here.”   
  
“Does that include us?” Fred asked, interestedly.    
  
“No,” said Mrs. Weasley sharply.    
  
“Oh, good.”   
  
She sighed, perhaps recognising that it wasn’t worth the battle. “If you really must …  _ one  _ glass, Ginny.”   
  
“I was planning on only using one glass,” said Ginny. Harry laughed, possibly too loudly, because Ron shot him a funny look.    
  
The champagne - or whatever it was - was not exactly to his taste, but it was strong enough to stem the flow of worries in his head, and certainly lifted the atmosphere somewhat; Bill and the twins shared a number of highly amusing stories of growing up in the Burrow (tactfully omitting any mention of Percy), thoroughly entertaining Harry and Fleur and making Mrs Weasley wonder aloud, several times, how in the name of Merlin she had coped with the seven of them.    
  
“Copious drinking, I can only assume,” said Fred, as Harry drained his glass and found it instantly refilled. George nudged him and winked.    
  
“We were well prepared for Mum, don’t worry,” he told Harry  _ sotto voce _ . “Ginny’s won’t refill, because if she wants another she’s more than capable of sneaking it herself and we’re not encouraging her to drink.”   
  
Mr Weasley turned on the wireless at around eleven, tuning in to live coverage of several celebrations that were going on around wizarding Britain.    
  
“... and in Hogsmeade, the annual Hogmanay ceilidh in full swing - we can have a listen -”   
  
They heard a blast of raucous folk music: it sounded very loud and merry.    
  
“D’you reckon McGonagall’s there?” said Ron. “I can just see her dancing a jig.”   
  
Harry had a very vivid mental image of their strict professor in full tartan, limbs flailing wildly in time to the music with her usual severe expression.    
  
The champagne forced him to visit the toilet after a while, and when he came back down (slightly unsteadily), he found Ginny at the foot of the stairs, looking out of the frosty window. He made a point of treading heavily on a creaky step, not wanting to startle her; she turned and smiled at him.    
  
He desperately wanted to say something cool and clever, but all that came out was, “Er - were you waiting for the loo?”   
  
She shook her head. “No - I just went to get a jumper.” Harry hesitated, unsure if he should just go back to the living room - she didn’t look like she was in a hurry to move - when she continued, “So, are you looking forward to the new year?”    
  
His heart leapt at the slightest indication that she wanted to spend time alone with him. “Yeah, definitely,” he said. “High hopes for this one.”   
  
“Like what?”   
  
“Well, I’m hoping that no one will try to kill me this year. Mind you, I’m not holding my breath … mostly because then I’d be the person trying to kill me.”   
  
Ginny’s laugh had a similar effect on him, he noted, as the champagne did.    
  
“Not making any resolutions?”   
  
“Nah, I don’t think I’ve got anything to improve on …”   
  
“Being captain’s gone to your head, I reckon.”   
  
Harry grinned at her, emboldened by the alcohol and their easy back-and-forth. “What about you?”   
  
“What, my resolutions?” Ginny looked thoughtful. “I don’t know. Any ideas?”   
  
_ Oh, I don’t know … break up with Dean?  _ “Win the Quidditch Cup,” Harry suggested.    
  
“Isn’t it meant to be something challenging?” she said, making him laugh again.    
  
“Oy - what is this, a private party?” Fred stuck his head around the door, and Harry hurriedly tried to look as if he was just talking to his best mate’s sister - which, he reminded himself, he was. “Come on, it’s nearly midnight and Dad’s drunk, we’re hoping he’ll sing.”   
  
Mr Weasley did sing, a very enthusiastic and tuneless rendition of ‘Auld Lang Syne’ accompanied by equally enthusiastic and tuneless harmonising from Fred and George. On the wireless, the presenter led the countdown to midnight, and Harry, sipping his champagne, glanced over at Ginny and resolved to be bold this year … daring, even …    
  
“- should OLD ACQUAINTANCE be forgot and NEVER brought to MIIIND -”   
  
“Well, zis is better than zat Celestina Warbeck,” said Fleur loudly.


End file.
